


It Happened One Night

by ilcuoreardendo



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Fallout Kink Meme, PWP, Smutlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tension's been building since they met; since she stepped into the mouth of a dinosaur and found an NCR issued combat knife held under her chin, intense eyes staring into her from behind dark glasses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happened One Night

**Author's Note:**

> A mini-fill written and originally posted on the Fallout Kink Meme. (Posted here after being tweaked very, very slightly.) The kink request was "real sex."
> 
> Featuring my Courier, who will, I hope, be soon appearing in a longer New Vegas fic (though I'm not sure if it'll feature this particular relationship), and Boone.
> 
> Also appears at my tumblr: [ilcuoreardendo-fic](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com/post/33451356047/note-written-for-the-fallout-kink-meme-request)

* * *

 

Isa's not sure how it happened. She wonders if she could explain it away…blame it on the minute amount of Cazador venom still left in their veins.

But, who's she kidding? The tension's been building since they met; since she stepped into the mouth of a dinosaur and found an NCR issued combat knife held under her chin, intense eyes staring into her from behind dark glasses.

Whatever line of self control they'd been holding onto was bound to snap sooner or later.

Still, she wasn't expecting it.

One moment they're discussing tactics and the next she's knocked his beret from his head and his nails are scraping over her arms and scrambling to get beneath her tank top.

(And  _Dios_ , she's thankful she already shucked the top of her leather armor, because it means her hands can spend more time struggling with the belt and zip on his pants.)

Her own are suddenly around her ankles and in a swift move that leaves her feeling like she's going to land on her head, he tips her over his thighs, whips the pants over her boots and tosses them onto the other bed roll. Then he's got her straddling him, hands on her hips. He's unzipped, bare where it counts, pressing hot and heavy against her and suddenly into her with a thrust so hard it makes her jaw clench.

He hasn't given her enough time; the feel of him is tight and almost painful, but he fills her so well that she finds it hard to complain.

Then he moves—slowly out and so  _so_ slowly back in—and it's not long at all before her body catches the rhythm and yes, that's the spot. It's been too long. And if he'll just keep... But. No.

He's changing positions.

What the fuck is he doing changing positions?

Boone twists them so she's on her back, so he's fitted snugly between her thighs. And she's reminded of why she hates this position as she stretches her feet toward the ground and finds she can only barely brush the tips of her boots against the bedroll.

She settles for locking her legs around his back, trying to use the leverage to angle her hips and get more of that beautiful friction that suddenly zips up her spine like an electric current. She closes her eyes and says, "Just like that.  _Yes_."

Boone's breath is hot and tickling against the curve of her ear and his voice comes out in an almost pained growl. "Been too long," he says, sounding mournful. Apologetic.

With that warning, she licks her fingers, slips her hand between the tight press of their bodies and lets his thrusts push her fingers against her clit, enjoys how the added pressure makes her clench and tighten around him.

He enjoys it too. It's not a moment later that his fingers press into her hips and he comes, hard enough for Isa to feel him pulse.

"Keep going," he exhales, brushing her fingers. "Want to watch you."

She really doesn't need the encouragement, but she smiles, strokes her clit in a way she hasn't yet been able to teach any lover, concentrates on the flex of his hips pushing his softening erection further into her, the rough pads of his fingers squeezing her nipples, the hot tongue that follows. She imagines that tongue on her clit and stiffens, mutters something that might have been a swear, might have been Boone's name.

The orgasm's not as good as some she's had, but in the middle of the Mojave, on the brink of war, of death, of disaster...it's a little piece of heaven.

Above her Boone grunts, chuckles and she realizes the force of her orgasm has pushed him out. She laughs along with him and cringes at the spreading wetness on her thighs and the bedroll beneath her.


End file.
